Tales from the Shepherd's Camp
by FlamingWolf
Summary: More parody in the style of Tales from Greil's Camp. Just me poking fun at my favorite series of games, without any notice whatsoever to chronology. None of these stories relate to each other, except where rule of funny applies.


Chrom wasn't doing his best. There were dark circles around his eyes and he was looking awfully pale. He was yawning a great deal and falling asleep at inappropriate times and places, then waking up with a start, looking wildly around him as if afraid of assassins. Of course, it had nothing to do with assassins, cutpurses with knives behind the tents, or even the fact that there was a war on.

Chrom was a hunted man.

His own tactician tried to beat his brains in with a rock, and that was BEFORE he had walked in on her in the bath. But if once is coincidence, then twice is by design and three times is a pattern. Therefore, he could only conclude that the fact that he KEPT winding up in compromising situations involving nudity, hot water, and various unmarried women was because of a deliberate plan. He was starting to feel as if his virtue was compromised by every woman in camp. Especially those who had hidden the naked pictures of him that Fredrick had drawn up and posted everywhere.

Why the hell was Frederick drawing naked posters of him, anyway?

Sumia walked into his tent with a pie and started laundering his underwear as if she thought they were already married. He was going to drown in tea if Maribelle had her way- when she wasn't stalking his sister. Olivia running away whenever he spoke to her, but constantly watching him, peeking around corners...

Lissa was no help either. When she wasn't worrying if she was a bastard- without seeming to think of the implications of that in regards to their late mother- she was just suggesting that Chrom "choose one and get it over with. After all, they're not going to stop until you are completely and utterly out of their reach".

"What am I? A plum?" He asked, shaking his head.

"They think so. I mean, I know you're a dork, but they seem to think you're handsome...and that they'll be queen when you get around to picking them."

"What if I pick someone NOT in the Shepherds? I mean, if I were thinking of picking anyone. I mean, I know I have to eventually, but this isn't the best time..." He sighed in exasperation, then dropped his head into his hands. "How about Sully? I mean, we've been best friends since childhood. She wouldn't take it wrong...of course, she might take me and break me over her knee, but..."

"Wow, are you desperate," Lissa laughed and ran off. Exactly zero help whatsoever.

His tent, the baths, his laundry, the mess tent- there was nowhere, NOWHERE safe.

"Nowhere...nowhere safe...nowhere..." He slumped down the wall of the tent. He was snoring blissfully there when Frederick found him.

"Assassins! Murderers! Dishonorable brigands!" Frederick shouted, whipping his sword from its sheath. The entire camp boiled out of their tents and into Chrom's. He woke with a start and jerked to his feet, grabbing for Falchion.

"Sire, you mustn't! Stay still! Lissa, quickly, your Mend staff!" Maribelle said, pushing him back down. "A stretcher! Prince Chrom requires a stretcher!"

"I require no such thing!" He said indignantly, and tried to stand again.

"Sire, if you will not take care of your injuries, then we will be forced to strap you down!" She insisted.

"And just where do you see blood?" He asked.

"We seem to have a shortage of nurses at the moment..." Kellam mused.

"Ooh, ooh! Pick me!" Lissa cried.

"But surely milord would prefer..." Sumia said. "I mean, I certainly..."

"I've played a nurse before in a drama," Olivia offered diffidently.

"Surely you can't be expecting to spend time alone with a man," The tactician said, pushing her way into the tent. "His nurse really ought to..."

"ARRRUUUGHHHH!" Chrom cried. Not minding his strength now, he shoved himself free of the hands that grasped at him and fled into the woods. Frederick followed, deeply concerned for his master. The rest of the men stepped out to watch the chase, utterly confused.

"Barking mad." The tactician said, planting her hands on her hips.

"Is it hereditary?" Maribelle wondered aloud, then looked guiltily at Lissa.

"Well, if madness does run in the male line, then whoever his son's mother is would have to tend both a mad husband and a mad son..." Lissa mused. Eyes wide, Maribelle, Sumia, and Olivia backed out of the tent. The tactician lifted an eyebrow.

"You're welcome." Lissa told her.

"Umm...thanks? What precisely am I thanking you for?" She asked.

"DUH!" Lissa said and left the tactician standing alone in the dark of Chrom's tent with a perplexed expression.


End file.
